


Repairing a Friendship 101

by bob2ff



Series: Miracles Hijinks [10]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Friendship or more according to interpretation, Gen, Humor, M/M, Male-Female Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2014-05-05
Packaged: 2018-01-21 23:50:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1568390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bob2ff/pseuds/bob2ff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How would one even try to begin, again, a friendship that only sort-of ended, anyway? Aomine tries to figure it out, but it’s harder than you think when the person in question is Kuroko, one of the most <em>difficult</em> people in the world.</p><p>  <em> “Hey, Tetsu,” Aomine stiffly sits across from him, in Maji Burger. Kuroko stares at him, from the top of his vanilla milkshake. Aomine stares back, and wonders what to say. Why he is even there in the first place. </em></p><p>  <em>“Nice seeing you here, Aomine-kun,” Kuroko replies. Polite as always. Too polite — after that, he just sits there, waiting for Aomine to say something. Aomine starts getting nervous, and thinks back to Teikou. He wonders who used to actually start their conversations back then. It couldn’t have been all him all the time, could it? </em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Repairing a Friendship 101

**Author's Note:**

> Written for BPS Challenge 69 (Beginnings).

“Dai-chan, it’s not that complicated. You’ve been reading too much manga, you’re being too dramatic,” Momoi rolls her eyes at Aomine, lying flat, face down on her couch. She smiles delightedly at her rows of cupcakes in progression.

“Satsuki, you don’t understand. The last time Tetsu and I even hung out properly, I was just teaching him how to shoot,” Aomine groans into the couch cushion. “And then all I’ve done is lurk around watching Seirin’s games up to Winter Cup, and here we are.” 

“Boys are simple,” Momoi waves her hand dismissively. Globs of dough fly from her hand and onto Aomine’s shirt, but he doesn’t notice, too busy whining into the couch. “Tetsu-kun probably already forgave you once you taught him how to shoot.”

“But it’s not the same,” Aomine insists. He was  _not_  whining — he was too cool for that. Aomine Daiki did not beg for friends — friends came to  _him_. “I taught him to shoot, but we’re not  _friends_  — we’re like basketball  _colleagues_  or something weird like that.”

Momoi looks impressed. “Wow Dai-chan, I never knew you were capable of an emotional range wide enough for social interactions as complex as colleague relationships.”

Aomine frowns. “Shut up with all your showing off and complicated words.” Then, sighing heavily, “I just want it to be like middle school again.”

Momoi starts, and tentatively reaches a flour-covered hand towards his head. Gently, she says, “Dai-chan…” Before she can say anything, or touch him, however, he sits straight up, and turns away from her.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Aomine slouches away, hand waving indifferently. “Some things are too late to get back.” His voice sounds unruffled, but he is deliberately not looking at her. Momoi looks after him, eyes worried.

 *** 

“Hey, Tetsu,” Aomine stiffly sits across from him, in Maji Burger. Kuroko stares at him, from the top of his vanilla milkshake. Aomine stares back, and wonders what to say. Why he is even there in the first place.

“Here,” that morning, along with the shrieking in his ear, a typically pleasant Satsuki wake-up call, Momoi dumped a file on his head. “Tetsu-kun hangs out here after school, every day, without fail.” 

Aomine had thrown all his pillows at her (she successfully dodged every one — Aomine’s aim wasn’t so good when he was trying to keep his head buried in his bed). And then, when he had finally gotten ready for school, Aomine had gagged at the cupcakes she had snuck on his breakfast plate.

“Nice seeing you here, Aomine-kun,” Kuroko replies. Polite as always.  _Too_  polite — after that, he just  _sits_ there, waiting for Aomine to say something. Aomine starts getting nervous, and thinks back to Teikou. He wonders who used to actually start their conversations back then. It couldn’t have been all him all the time, could it?

“You’re in my seat, idiot,” Kagami grumbles from behind Aomine. “What the hell are you doing here, anyway?” Aomine doesn’t know at that moment whether he is glad for the interruption, or is annoyed to see him. General irritation is his default reaction to Kagami, anyway. 

“Sit somewhere else, then,” he barks back, rudely. Kagami rolls his eyes, then sits next to Tetsu. Now the  _both_  of them are staring at him, waiting for him to say something. Why did  _he_ have to do all the work? Aomine was not used to being the sociable one here. 

“So…basketball,” he says, before wondering what else to say. He berates himself internally. Even  _he_  knew saying the first word common among the three of them that came to his head sounded dumb.

Kagami nods through a mouthful of burger. He deadpans, “Yup, basketball. We’re better at it, we won, you lost, get over it.” Aomine gapes at him. And then he opens his mouth to start arguing, but then he hears  _something_.

Tetsu was  _laughing_. Well, since it was Tetsu it would never be outright laughing. He was just— sort of breathing louder and weirder than usual.

Aomine suddenly feels like running away. “I have to go.” He ignores Kagami’s “What the hell, come back” and Tetsu’s quiet call of “Aomine-kun,” and walks straight out.

He doesn’t know why he feels so annoyed, irritated, sad — so what if he hadn’t seen Tetsu laugh so easily like that, since Teikou? So what if it was  _Kagami_  who he was comfortable enough with to joke around and rib with now?

He doesn’t know.

***

“Dai-chan.”

“Dai-chan.”

“Dai-chan, it’s been  _four hours_.” 

Aomine keeps running around the court, he keeps shooting formless shots that all go in. He tries to feel the basketball that used to make him feel better, but all he can think about is that  _that_ basketball had been with Tetsu, in a partnership that  _Aomine_  ended, and cannot get back.

Suddenly, the ball isn’t in his hands anymore. It is in Satsuki’s, in front of him. He stares at her, shocked, dumbfounded. Satsuki has  _never_  tried to play basketball with him like this before. Since they could both remember, she preferred not being sweaty, at the side. He opens his mouth to ask her what the hell her problem was, but she throws the ball. At his face. Aomine’s hands move up to catch it, reflexes moving without him even thinking. 

“You are the  _worst_  friend in the world,” she says. Her eyes were suspiciously shiny, although her voice is strong and calm. Aomine blinks at her. Throughout Teikou, throughout what he did to Tetsu, throughout what he did to  _her_ , she has never said that to him.

“When are you going to stop making people chase after you, and go after them yourself?” she demands. “Stop being such a  _brat_.” She grabs the basketball from him, and stalks off.

Aomine stares after her. Then he realizes she stole his basketball.

***

“What, first you take my seat in my favourite hangout spot, and now you’re  _trespassing_?” Kagami gapes at Aomine, sitting casually on his desk. “Are you  _stalking_  us or something?” 

“Don’t flatter yourself, idiot,” Aomine smirks. “I wouldn’t come to see  _you_.” He continues drawing pictures of boobs and penises on Kagami’s desk. With a marker. 

“Good afternoon, Aomine-kun, Kagami-kun,” Kuroko’s voice appears out of nowhere. It is only through years of practice and reflexes that Aomine does not react. He feels a vindictiveness when Kagami visibly jumps and glares at Kuroko. He still knows  _his_  shadow best, after all. 

“Aomine-kun, is there something we can help you with?” Kuroko asks. Man, Aomine needed to start getting used to Kuroko’s irritating tendency of straightforwardly, embarrassingly asking you what the hell you were doing there. In the most polite way possible.

“Yeah,” Aomine says confidently, loudly. “You guys  _owe_  me for my help. It’s only thanks to me you guys did so well in the Winter Cup. I’m here to collect  _payment_.”

They both stare at him. Aomine’s confidence starts to waver — was that the wrong thing to say? He thought if they thought they owed him, then they would be  _obligated_ to repay him. It would  _make_  them hang out with him.

Kagami gapes at him, exasperated. “You’re unbelievable!” Aomine starts smiling. Yes, he had them exactly where he wanted. 

But then Kuroko says, “You are an idiot, Aomine-kun.” Aomine’s mouth falls open. Tetsu hasn’t insulted him like that since — well, since Teikou.

Kuroko continues, “You mean you want to play basketball with us.” Aomine jerks his head up. “What? You’ve got it backwards —  _you_   _guys_  want to play with  _me_ ,” he says, haughtily.

Kagami rolls his eyes. “Seriously, Kuroko, first Midorima, now this idiot. Are all your friends tsundere?” Except for Kise, of course, who seemed to show enough love to make up for the general deficiency among the Miracles.  _That_  did not need to be said.

Kagami punches Aomine in the shoulder. “Come on, let’s play a game afterwards.” Aomine blinks at him, then turns suspicious.

“You want another pair of my shoes, don’t you?” he says, accusingly. “You’re not getting it!”

Kuroko  _jabs_  Aomine in the ribs. He hasn’t  _abused_  him like that since Teikou. “Stop being so dense, Aomine-kun. I can’t be handling two oblivious idiots at once.” 

Both Aomine and Kagami turn to him, simultaneously saying “Huh?”

Kuroko smiles, and Aomine is secretly delighted despite himself to see it is a shadow of his old smile, back at Teikou before the Miracles’ basketball, before  _Aomine_ ’s basketball, took it away. 

“Outdoor courts, after school,” he says. Then, “Aomine-kun, go back to your own school before I call the police to report unauthorized school absence.”

***

When Aomine gets back home, late, Satsuki is lying on his couch, fast asleep. He leans in close to her ear, and says, “Tetsu mentioned you today.”

She jerks up, immediately. “Tetsu-kun!” Aomine smirks. Too predictable. “See,  _that’s_  how you wake someone up,” he tells her, loftily. “You don’t  _abuse_  them while they’re lying defenseless in bed.”

Momoi ignores him. “What did Tetsu-kun say?” she asks, excitedly. 

Aomine ignores  _her_. “Where’s my basketball?”

Momoi ignores his question. “Did you have fun, playing basketball with Kagamin and Tetsu-kun?”

Her smile is understanding. It is the smile Aomine realizes Satsuki always wears when she watches him hang out with Tetsu, the two of them shutting her out, unintentionally, with the strength of their bond. 

Aomine ignores  _her_ question. “You can come along next time, to find out what Tetsu said.” Then, “You  _should_  come along next time.” 

Momoi smiles. Then, “Your basketball is on your bookshelf, on your schoolbooks. I  _knew_ you would never look there.”

***

They start playing basketball regularly a few times a week, after school, Aomine, Kagami and Tetsu.

It is not the same. For one thing, Kagami is  _always there_. It bothers Aomine at first, that the idiot he feels doesn’t  _deserve_  to play basketball with someone like Tetsu is  _always_  playing with him. But then he deserved it more than Aomine himself — after all, he wasn’t the one to walk away from playing basketball with Tetsu, a long time ago.

Playing basketball with Tetsu, Kagami there, Aomine realizes anything he begins again with Tetsu would always have to include Kagami.  _They_  were the new light-and-shadow now, and  _Aomine_  did not know where he fit with them. He wasn’t  _meant_  to fit with them. 

Tetsu starts talking to him again like he used to, and Aomine is glad despite himself that Kagami provides enough irritation and bother to distract from the reminder of what had changed, since Teikou. Because it wasn’t meant to be the same. Some things were too late to get back, after all.

Yet, playing basketball with them, Satsuki occasionally at the side always finding new ways for Kagami and Tetsu and Aomine to grow further and better and faster at basketball, Aomine feels like he is on the cusp of a new beginning. The beginning of a new kind of basketball, and a new kind of friendship. It wouldn’t be the same, but it would have to do.


End file.
